The Pacific Northwest Scholarship
by dream-2me
Summary: Missing scene from Meyer's New Moon outtake, "The Scholarship". Bella finds her bank account with 20 grand extra from a vague scholarship. Try as she may, she can't rid herself of the Pacific Northwest Trust's generous offer. EPOV, 3rd POV, Alice POV
1. Chapter 1

This is a compliment to Stephenie Meyer's New Moon outtake, _The Scholarship_. (I suggest reading _The Scholarship_ if you have not already.)

**Summary of **_**The Scholarship**:_ In Meyer's New Moon outtake, _The Scholarship_, Bella discovers her bank account holding twenty-thousand dollars more than it should due to a vague scholarship that she was rewarded. Try as she may to rid herself of this generous award, she finds it hard to escape the Pacific Northwest Corporation.

- Some of the text (Mrs. Gerandy asking Bella to join her, the email from Bella, the email from Mr. Randall) is straight from Stephenie- all credit to her for this beautiful, entertaining bit of New Moon that is sadly only an outtake.  
- The outtake has 6 parts that are weaved throughout the New Moon storyline that we all know. This fanfiction tells of 5 out of the 6 scenes from Edward, Alice, and a third-person point of view.  
- The story is in Edward POV unless otherwise stated.

* * *

**The Pacific Northwest Scholarship  
_part one_**

"Hello?" I asked, hesitant. The caller's number was almost familiar if I'd allowed myself to think about it.

"Please wait for the call to be transferred," droned a computer's female voice setting. I rolled my eyes and pulled the phone from my face, my finger moving towards the off button. I was not the slightest bit curious as to what this could be.

"Hello?" the voice rang out, somewhat hysteric. "Hello? I'm calling on behalf of the Forks Federal Bank. Is this… a Mr. Randall?" The voice paused, waiting for some response on my part.

I was frozen, taken aback. It seemed like if anything, _anything_ in the entire world was the last thing on my mind, it was this. I could feel my brow pull down in confusion. My mouth fell slightly open.

"Hello? Sir?" the woman continued, still waiting.

I knew what this was yet it didn't prepare me for the rush of thoughts and emotion and hurt and worry. I'd stupidly- well, what _she_ would call stupid- deposited twenty thousand dollars into her bank account in hopes that all her dreams would be easily within reach. Moving back with her mother, college, a career, buying a home, supporting a family... And I'd passed this off as a very prestigious scholarship.

"Yes. I'm so sorry. Hello," I blurted out, clearing my throat and putting on a false voice.

"Hello, Mr. Randall," she- Mrs. Gerandy, it sounded like- laughed lightly. "As I said, I'm calling from the Forks Federal Bank. It's regarding the scholarship from the Pacific Northwest Trust," she paused again, waiting for my confirmation.

"Yes, yes of course. Was there something wrong with the transfer?" I asked, very interested now. What if she was trying to take out money and she couldn't? What was she using it for? Had she found a college that she fell in love with? Was she trying to buy books or send in tuition money?

"Just a bit of a mix-up, that's all," Mrs. Gerandy said, trying to hard to sound relaxed. Relief temporary flooded over me until my mind was racing again with questions. She continued, "The recipient, a Ms. Isabella Swan, was unsure where the twenty thousand came from and how it got into her account."

Her name was like a blow to my chest. The air rushed out, and my head was flashing with images of her angel face. I saw her smiling at me, gazing at me with wonder, laying in a meadow with a soft breeze tangling her mahogany hair around her face. Her chocolate eyes crinkled up as she laughed, her glorious, pale skin expanded over her bones, the veins loosely visible. A weak smile cracked on my lips as I pictured her like that now. But was she near Mrs. Gerandy now? Was she smiling, excited about the opportunities that were available to her now after this "scholarship"?

The conscious part of my mind thought that. It hoped that. It said, _Yes, Bella will live her life. She must._ Yet a small, emotional, maybe even irrational part told me no. She would not be like that. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the last image I'd seen of her.

Her face was blank, desolate. It looked as if her mind had been swiped clean. As if the girl I'd loved (my knees weakened at the word) was suddenly erased. Could that girl return? Would she smile like she had before? Did I erase her forever? No, I did not. She was stronger than anyone had ever or will ever give her credit for. I knew- or at least had to believe- that she would crinkle up her eyes in a smile once more.

The large, conscious part of me stuck to that accusation while the small, emotional piece within was pleading for me to see how wrong that was. I quickly broke that small piece, and let my self be overtaken by sense, not feel.

"Well, I hope I can clear anything up for you. I wouldn't want her to miss this wonderful opportunity," I chuckled. It didn't sound right at all. I was waiting for Mrs. Gerandy to call me out but she just warmly sighed in return.

"Oh no, we'll make sure that doesn't happen to Bella. If I could just ask you a few questions, though…" she left the sentence hanging.

"Anything I can do to help," I said truthfully.

"Good, good. So, just a few basic questions then." We both inhaled. She readied herself for the note taking, and I readied myself for whatever would be thrown at me.

But _I_ wanted to ask her questions. What was Ms. Swan up to these days? That one would be a reasonable request from her scholarship provider. Did she look happy? Was her life full? Had she found someone else? (My fist clenched at the thought. I drew myself together and loosened my grip, smothering that smaller, irrational part of me.) Did her face light up anymore? Could you describe to me the shade of natural blush on her cheeks? Was her hair twisted back to expose the perfect heart shape of her face, or was it wild and warm, draping over her shoulders? Those questions weren't at all appropriate. Yet I couldn't ask the first without the rest rushing out in a surge of care and worry and curiosity. _And love and affection and want and need_, my smaller part screamed.

"What does this scholarship award?" she asked, breaking the chaos within me. "Is it aimed at applicants with a certain family income?"

"Yes and no," I began, pulling out ideas and hoping they sounded sane. "We award this scholarship to mainly females who reside in smaller towns. These girls usually don't have the opportunities to go to bigger schools or experience city life." That may have been an unintentional blow to Mrs. Gerandy. "The scholarship is in hope that the recipient will use it to find a school, regardless of location, which offers them the best options for their future. But merit is taken into consideration, as well."

"Hm, I see. And is this a renewing scholarship?" Mrs. Gerandy asked, doubtful that a scholarship of twenty grand would renew itself for four or more years.

"Actually, each month of college, or even graduate school enrollment, Isabella will have five thousand dollars automatically transferred into her bank account, wherever that may be. It is in hope that nothing limits her from achieving the best college education or the best chance at a wonderful career." I did not pull this out of nowhere. It was wholly true. It was all I wanted for her, all I thought about- that she could have all this now that I had removed myself from her life.

"Wow," she paused for a bit, either collecting herself or staggered by the sudden emotion in my explanation. "That is extremely generous. Was Isabella the only female student to receive this scholarship? And also, how many applications are usually submitted?" She asked the last question out of her own curiosity.

"There are actually no applicants. We have many rejected applications for various other scholarships and we make sure to look over them all carefully. Some of the students are greatly overlooked and we hope to give them the chance that every graduate deserves."

"Interesting. Very interesting, Mr. Randall. Thank you so much for your help. Isabella should be so happy to know that she's received this amazing opportunity. I've jotted everything down and will call her in to break the news to her. Though it is a little odd that she was unaware of this before hand."

The mention of Bella's presence so close sent my mind into a frenzy. What if she asked me to speak to _her_? What would happen? My mind raced at a million miles an hour of all the possibilities. I would simply lie. I had business to attend to, no time to talk. Right? I had to. But could I? If I heard her small, delicate voice ask for me, could I pull myself away. Could I hang up on her? I was suddenly aware of my silence. Mrs. Gerandy must have been waiting for me to speak.

"Hm. Yes, it is a bit odd," my voice stated without infliction. I could sense that Mrs. Gerandy was left hanging without an explanation.

"Please excuse me, a moment," she politely said. "Bella, would you mind joining me?" My heart dropped into my stomach and my eyes widened in disbelief.

I heard footsteps drag along the floor. Ms. Gerandy's breathing was barely audible as my ears closed in on that sound. My heart would have risen back to its spot in my chest. It would be beating erratically if it were possible. The background noise from the phone was the most important thing to me in months. Yet I was terrified. I was frozen. She was going to speak to me.

Straining my perfect hearing, I leaned forward as if that would allow me to jump through the phone line to see her. It was stupid, yet the pull of her presence, even from hundreds and hundreds of miles away, was erasing all rational thought within me.

There was the shuffling of her shoes, the shallow intake of her breath and the soft release of air in return, and then, the slow beating of her heart.

My face, my body, my whole mind was flushed with anguish. I could nearly feel the ghost tears what would've run down my cheek. Bella's heart.

"_Her heart"_, I sighed silently.

That small part of me that felt and loved and hurt and was not numb but alive with emotion came back to the front of my being.

_Bella, I love you. I'm sorry. I want nothing more that to hear your voice, to see your eyes, to touch the soft skin of your hand. I want nothing more than to have you here with me or me with you or us together somewhere, anywhere. Together. Bella, I love you. I'm dead without you. I want nothing more than to keep you forever. I want nothing more than to have you for only me, and I will be all yours. Bella, I love you. I'm yours already. Always. I miss you more each second that I'm away. I am so sorry._

I was rapidly breathing, this plea to her so close to my lips. It was going to bubble over soon. I would be yelling it to Mrs. Gerandy, proclaiming everything I won't allow myself to feel to some middle-aged woman in hopes that Bella would hear.

And suddenly, as if it were a sad dream, that part of me was destroyed. Again. It would be back but it was dead for now.

_Bella, I will always love you. But we can't be together. You have to live and love and have a life without me or my family or these monsters that have caused you so much pain. You have to blush and breathe and your heart has to beat. Bella, I will always love you. You have to forget me. Bella, I will always love you, but I have to forget you, too._

I heard her sit down, the sound hardly there as Mrs. Gerandy asked for my phone number. I mumbled the digits- not sure where they led to but I sure it was long distance. Unrecognizable. I paused halfway through the number, listening for a sign of Bella. She sighed once, her heart still pumping low, and I knew that that was all I could take.

"I'm sorry to cut out, but something urgent has come up. It was a great pleasure speaking with you and I hope Isabella takes full use of this scholarship. Goodbye." I waited just long enough for her response.

"Thank you, yes. Well, I think that's everything. Yes, yes. Thank you so much for your help," she said finally. I clicked the off button and took a giant breath. My lower lip trembled slightly, involuntary.

I collapsed onto the cold earth floor.


	2. Chapter 2

3rd person point-of-view:

**Disclaimer**: all credit to Stephenie Meyer for this storyline. The email to Mr. Randall is straight from the text in her outtake, _The Scholarship_. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**The Pacific Northwest Scholarship  
_part two_**

The computer flashed at an incoming email. Esme, researching various landscapes for a new reconstruction project, scrolled the mouse, curious.

She clicked the small email box, a bit guilty for intruding on Edward's underused computer. He hadn't come around in ages though, and she felt it would do no harm to either of them.

"It couldn't be anything important," she muttered, opening the email. Her eyes scanned quickly along the text:

_Dear Mr. Randall,_

_I'm hoping you remember the conversation you had this afternoon with Mrs. Gerandy at the Forks Federal Bank. My name is Isabella Swan, and apparently you are under the impression that I have been awarded a very generous scholarship from The Pacific Northwest Trust Company. __I am sorry, but I cannot accept this scholarship. I have asked that the money I'd already received be wired back to the account it came from, and closed my account at the Forks Federal Bank. Please award the scholarship to someone different._

_Thank you, I. Swan_

Esme was in a curious shock, yet she understood. She left her station in front of the monitor and was back in a flash, dialing the number of her first son.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: all credit to Stephenie Meyer for this storyline. The email to Bella is straight from the text in her outtake, _The Scholarship_. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**The Pacific Northwest Scholarship  
_part three_**

I couldn't deny that hearing from Esme was pleasant, or as pleasant as anything could possibly be anymore.

She'd told me of a certain email I'd received. It took her a while to muster up the strength and courage to admit who the email was from. I'd thanked her before she could continue on. Initially, I smiled- in spite of my whole entire life- that Bella had sent that email to "Mr. Randall".

Yet that email triggered unending questions in my head. She didn't want the money? Why not? Was she not going to college? Was she in good enough health for college? Was she so happy with her life that she didn't need college or a career? Maybe she found someone who could give her a secure life. What if she was going to college, but she didn't need the scholarship? Did she get a full ride all on her own? If so, where was she going and what would she study and would she be happy and fulfilled there? Could all this even happen in a few months?

I stopped myself before going insane with curiosity, worry… fear. I'd covered all my emotions and calmly and coolly asked Esme to respond to the email.

"Of course, Edward," she said, fully prepared to do anything for me. She was more than I deserved.

"It's called The Pacific Northwest Trust Company… Scholarship Allocations Office" I made up quickly. "You don't need to write a return address or anything," I'd told her. She agreed and began typing as I responded, from far away, to Bella's email:

_Dear Ms. Swan,_

_Allow me to formally congratulate you on being awarded the Pacific Northwest Trust's prestigious J. Nicholls Scholarship. This scholarship is awarded only infrequently, and you should feel proud to know that the Allocations Committee picked your name unanimously for the honor.  
__There have been a few small difficulties in awarding your scholarship monies, but please don't concern yourself. I've taken it on myself to see that you are put to the least possible inconvenience. Please find enclosed a cashier's check for twenty-five thousand dollars, the initial award plus your first month's allowance.  
__Once again I congratulate you on your accomplishment. Please accept the best wishes of the entire Pacific Northwest Corporation for your future scholastic career._

_Sincerely,  
__I. Randall_

I was satisfied with the email, sure that she would be unable to talk herself out of such a generous offering. Yet, I would not be surprised if she did.

Esme tried to keep me on the line longer, but I asked to be excused. She didn't need explanation, and she let me go willingly. Her goodbye was laced with worry and sorrow, and for that I felt more horrid.

I pushed away all feeling and worry for Bella and guilt for my family's worry and anything else that opened my wounds and poured salt in them. Breathing evenly and closing my eyes, it wasn't long before I numbed myself. Once I couldn't feel anymore, I inhaled, filling my chest with the surrounding air, and followed Victoria's weak scent through the dark, dry city.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Pacific Northwest Scholarship  
_part four_**

"Edward," Esme sighed, "the check was never cashed."

I wasn't shocked at all. And the questions began to run out in my mind. After looking into nearly every possibility for why Bella would or wouldn't want the "scholarship" money, I began to feel very silly.

She was still, not _my_ Bella (my chest ached at that realization), but Bella. At least, I think. Was it really so strange for her to not accept a gift? This must be a good sign. She was back to herself. Stubborn Bella. She was back to normal. Maybe she was never even not normal. Maybe she cried me out of her system and went on with her life, the same as she had before I disrupted it.

That thought brought me happiness. If she could be herself, she must be safe and happy. Yet that didn't stop me from trying to reward her again.

"We'll try something new then. Cash. She can't avoid that. Just take as much as you need from any of my accounts, Esme. And do whatever you need to make sure it gets to her house."

"Sure," she agreed. "But Edward," Esme paused. I knew what was coming. "How are you? Where are you? What are you doing? Will you stop home? You know Carlisle worries about you. We all do." The wall holding her back opened like a breaking dam.

"I'm actually not too bad," I admitted, lying to her more than I'd like. "I'm kind of trying to track Victoria. It's not easy and it's keeping my mind occupied… for the most part. Please don't worry about me, Esme. I'll be fine. I've made it this long and things just seem to be getting better." That last part was completely a lie. Yet she believed me.

"If you say so, Edward. But you know we miss you. It wouldn't hurt to stop in just so we could see each other."

"I will sometime soon, but then again, not too soon. I'm at a stand still with Victoria and I need to get back on her track. It's hard to get a lot done down here with the sunlight. But soon, I promise."

It was a promise I wasn't sure if I could keep, but the words were a balm to Esme's worry, and that was good enough to ease me from my temporary guilt. But, unlike the guilt, my mind was not eased of Bella.


	5. Chapter 5

Alice Cullen point-of-view:

* * *

**The Pacific Northwest Scholarship  
_part five_**

It wasn't necessary to visit the house, but I wanted to pay homage to our old home. And even though it was empty and cold and lonely, it still was home. Because Forks was home.

I'd realized that as Bella crammed herself into me, crying and broken and a mess. Jasper pleaded with me to leave the situation alone, but he couldn't keep me away. No one could. Because Bella was my friend, my sister, and when I saw her jump, a part of me was a crying, broken mess, too.

And now I was back home. I'd promised her I would return after I'd hunted and I fully intended to keep that promise.

I couldn't make out what our futures held- hers, his, mine, ours- and that made me feel handicapped. How could I fix Bella and Edward and this whole situation- my arrival to Forks- when I didn't know what would happen?

I pushed the thoughts away as I noticed the gaping hole in the front window. I ran into the house, memories breaking into my mind at the smell of the place, and inspected the item.

"What the _hell_?" I said aloud, perplexed.

A box full of cash. Once again, I felt handicapped.


End file.
